Lies You Told Me
by badmoonrisingccr
Summary: Involves Wincest and Angst and perhaps a happy ending, but really it will all depend where the story leads and what the reviews say. If you don't like it then don't read it
1. Growth changes things

**DISCLAIMER: **Don't own it!

_Okay, so if you have read anything of mine before, then you know that I am a complete SAP for happy endings and hiliarious stories...However I though I'd try my hand at something a little different...you know, try to expand my writing abilities. lol. This story is Dedicated to one of my most favourite and fellow Fanfic Wincest writers, Poeticallypathetic (if you haven't read one of her stories you are missing out hard core!) lol, it'll be a couple of chapters, cuz i'm not quite sure how long I want it yet, so ENJOY! and remember that REVIEWS are a writers best friend._

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There was no denying it, not while he was curled beside his brother's warm body. Not while the room still smelt of sex. Not while the pain inside his chest was becoming so unbearable…He was in love. And it hurt. 

It might not have been so bad if it had been someone, anyone, other than his brother. Dean who had not only been his brother, but his father, his mother, his teacher…his everything. Even his lover, as of the tender age of fourteen.

But it was his brother. And that went against everything that Sam had ever known. Even the first time that he had quickly pecked Dean on the lips and ran away like it had been a game, he had known it wasn't normal. It had continued in similar manners for a couple of years, mostly in the times when Sam had known that Dean was pissed at him…because for some reason unknown to him at the age of eight, his quick kisses made everything better.

At ten, the quick kisses stopped getting him what he wanted, because he found out that what he wanted was something that he couldn't put a word to. So out of frustration he made the kisses less quick and more demanding because he wanted something and he knew that Dean was the only one that could give it to him.

At eleven they had been wrestling over the shower, practically naked with only their boxers on but it was nothing new…except the overpowering urge Sam got when he had Dean trapped between his legs. Everything had stopped when Sam's little hands had rested on Dean's hips and slowly began exploring their way up his torso.

They kept moving up until he cupped Dean's neck and leaned in to lick the back of his ear. Dean had shoved him off faster than Sam had been ready for and he got slammed into the wall with his head snapping back into the drywall. Dean had mumbled his apologies and slammed the bathroom door. Similar incidents had happened in the following three years.

At fourteen, Sam had thrown himself into school and ignored Dean and their father altogether. John thought it was a teenage rebellion, but Dean knew better. Sam had caught him screwing some completely random chick and had ignored Dean until he had finally cornered his little brother.

"**What the hell is the matter with you?"**

**Sam, being thirteen, tried to hide it. "Nothin'"**

**Dean practically snarled. "There's something the matter, and you had better figure it out fast and get over it before dad thinks something is wrong."**

**Sam narrowed his eyes, but remained silent.**

"**This is about**_** her**_**, isn't it?"**

"**And what if it is?" He replied arrogantly with a what-are-you-gonna-do-about-it look.**

**Dean had shoved his hard against the wall and had branded Sam's mouth with his own hungry lips. He didn't break the scorching kiss until they were both panting.**

"**She was just a replacement, Sam, for something that can **_**never**_** happen." He gave Sam a sad look. "They're all just going to be replacements." His tongue darted out to flick over his bottom lip, and he turned to walk away.**

But it had happened, two months later to be more exact. It had been amazingly wrong, but Sam wouldn't have had it any other way.

Dean shifted and Sam held his breath praying that his brother wouldn't wake. Dean was never much for cuddling, so Sam took whatever chances he had…and there weren't many.

He settled and Sam tightened his grip on Dean's torso. What would people think if they knew? Or for that matter, what would their father think? What would the almighty John Winchester do if he ever found out that his only children found light in each other in their world of darkness?

Sam shuttered at the thought of their father finding out. For the past five years they had been careful as to not tip their father off to anything suspicious. They had managed, but had their father taken more notice he would have seen the subtle glances and feather light touches. Not to mention the countless times that they had almost been caught necking in the motel beds.

Again, Sam tightened his grip on his older brother's waist and murmured in his ear "I love you, Dean." Dean shifted and Sam stilled, faking sleep, not wanting to get caught saying something sappy that would result in him getting kicked into his own bed.

"Sammy?" He heard Dean mumble. Sam didn't reply and Dean sighed. "Damn geek is such a clinger."

Sam held back his disappointment when he thought Dean was going to pull away…but to his surprise Dean gently pulled him closer and Sam could have sworn that he'd heard what could have been a sound of contentment from his brother's lips.

It was the first time that Dean had actually pulled him closer. Even though it seemed like a massive step towards…something, Sam was hesitant to embrace it. Whenever Dean broke out of his protective shell, there was always hell to pay after.

He had fallen faster than he could save himself, or Dean for that matter who had done everything in his power to save Sam. Lying in his brother's arms like he was sometimes caused him to fly into a blind panic, because things between them just seemed too natural. What they were doing was beginning to feel too normal, when it shouldn't.

The next morning they were sitting at a dingy coffee shop waiting for their father to show up. That was just one of the things that was pissing Sam off though. The second…

Dean.

Or more, the sleazy waitress that he was consistently flirting with everytime she came to refill his coffee cup…and he seemed to be jugging it back even faster than usual.

She let out a shrilly laugh when Dean whispered something under his breath, Sam rolled his eyes, ran his tongue along his teeth and leaned down to pull out of his books. Conversation with Dean would have been boring that morning anyways, considering he was in one of his 'flirt with every bimbo to make himself feel more masculine' moods.

He was just reading on the broad based approach for jury selection when Dean ripped the book out of his hands. "Dean!"

Ignoring his brother's protests Dean looked into the book that Sam was reading. "Dude, you're only nineteen, why do you need to know about shit like jury selections?" He flipped the book closed and looked at the cover. He gave Sam a skeptical look. "What the hell does _Forensic Psychology _have to do with hunting?"

Sam's look pretty much called him an idiot. "Absolutely nothing. Give it back." He said as he reached for it.

Dean grinned and held it back. "I don't think so, Sammy. Does dad know what you waste your money on?"

Sam's brow furrowed. "No, but why the hell does it matter anyways. It's my money."

"Why do you waste it on stupid books like these? They won't help you on a hunt."

Sam's patience snapped. Dean was always prodding into the things that he did and usually criticized him when it had nothing to do with hunting. "And I suppose wasting your money by giving large tips to floozies that you will never see again seems to be a better way to spend it?"

The tone in Sam's voice had Dean giving Sam his book back. He licked his lips and leaned back into his chair. He remained stubbornly silent, one of his classic moves. He refused to talk, just like always.

Sam took his time putting his book away and then leaned in to whisper to Dean. "Why do you still need distractions, Dean? Or is it that they never were and you were just trying to protect your little brother, like always?"

Dean leaned forward until their foreheads were nearly touching. "I'm not talking about this here."

Sam gave him a disgusted look. "You never want to talk about this. But then again why wouldn't you? You love to talk about things that aren't normal…so why can't you talk about fucking your brother?" Dean's eyes flicked to the side and he hissed at Sam. "Cause that sure as hell isn't normal, Dean."

Dean leaned back and plastered his typical fuck-me smile on his face as the waitress returned to fill his cup…again.

Sam practically snarled at Dean as he got up. "Tell dad I took a walk." He threw his backpack over his shoulder and walked out of the diner.

He kicked the gravel as he walked, or more or less stomped, away from the parking lot. Their dad would be pissed that Sam had taken off and even more furious that Dean had let him.

He stopped walking when he came to an empty side street and sat down on the curb, with his bag between his knees. He opened it and looked at the small collection of books that he had started accumulating a little over four months ago.

_Diversity in the Justice System_. He flipped to the next one. _Human Rights and Civil Liberties_. The next one. _Criminological Theory._ Next. _Qualitative Research Methods. Law, Politics and the Judicial System. __Forensic Psychology._

He'd been confused for the past year, not really knowing what he wanted. He'd be done school in just under a year and his nerves had been on edge for reasons that he couldn't understand. Then one day four months ago he's been in a library researching on a dead serial arsonist when he'd read up on the trial. It was amazing and something just clicked into place as he searched the library on more information on the Justice System.

Things were changing and there was nothing that Sam could do to stop it. He wasn't even sure if he wanted to.

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_...And the jury says...?_


	2. The coldness burns

**DISCLAIMER: **Own nothing

_Sorry about the lack of updating, school has been taking up WAY too much of my time and not to mention I seem to be losing inspiration on a constant basis. Thanks to two people (I think you know who you are) I was able to put up this much at least. Sorry that it's kinda short, I'll try and make the next chapter longer...since in my mind there is alot going into the next one...blabbering, sorry. Enjoy _

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Sam had been different for three months now, at least that was when Dean started noticing. Nothing big, just small things here and there. Like how he tried to keep the books that he bought to himself. Or the hidden smiles he would get when the cops that stopped them weren't quite as stupid as dad or himself took them for. Or the way that he moved away from Dean instead of trying to cuddle…and Sammy _always_ wanted to cuddle. 

Overall Sam was just not acting like his Sammy. And it pissed Dean off because he knew exactly what was wrong with Sam.

Dean had always hoped that after Sam was finished school that he would put a little more effort into hunting, but it seemed like the exact opposite was happening. Sam just got more and more into his books and Dean could tell that he was hiding something from him. And that pissed him off too.

Dean stared at the ceiling of the cheap motel in the darkness of the night. He could hear their dad in the bed next to theirs, in deep sleep and snoring softly. He rolled from his back onto his side to look at Sam…or more, Sam's back. It had been days since Sam had kissed him, and weeks since they had done anything remotely worth grinning over.

He leaned in and kissed the back of Sam's neck.

Sam didn't move.

Dean scooted his body closer and laid one of his palms on Sam's hips…still no response. He slid his hand forward to rest on the top of Sam's boxers and leaned farther in to gently suck on the soft skin behind his ear. Sam shivered. Dean grinned and kept suckling as he slipped his fingers under the elastic of Sam's boxers…then Sam grabbed his hand.

"Sammy…"

Sam suddenly rolled over and had Dean pinned to the mattress, not very hard considering how freaking big the kid had grown in the past couple of months. He grinded his hips into Dean's erection and Dean groaned. Sam cast a glance over at the other bed, before returning his gaze to Dean's…but the look in Sam's eyes was not one of desire.

His look was…cold.

Dean's brows furrowed and he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Sam…"

Sam used one of his hands to cover Dean's mouth as the other snaked down to palm him through his boxers. Dean closed his eyes and groaned again, thrusting into his brother's hand. Sam pulled away just long enough to slip his hand into Dean's boxers and grasp his dick.

Dean continued to thrust into Sam's palm but refused to open his eyes, fearing that the same coldness would still be there. After a few minutes he tensed, his back coming off the mattress as much as Sam's body would allow. He tipped his head back and pumped one more time into Sam's warm, firm grip and shuttered at his release.

Sam was off of him the second he rode his orgasm out, rolling to the other side of the bed and getting off it. He grabbed his pants and a shirt from the floor and was yanking them on before Dean had any clue at what was happening. He felt a brush of cold air on his skin and when he looked towards the door, he saw Sam pulling the door closed.

Cursing the little shit in his mind, Dean quickly got up and dressed. He cast a glance at their father's bed before shutting the door quietly. He immediately saw Sam, he was across the highway and Dean just caught him leaping (elegantly because of his freakishly long legs) over a chain metal fence and into a school yard.

Dean jogged across the highway and hopped (not quite as elegantly as his brother) over the fence. Sam glanced back when he heard the chain snap in the cool air…he kept walking.

Dean rolled his eyes and jogged to catch up to him. When he caught Sam, he grabbed his arm and pulled him to a stop. He did, but he didn't turn around to face Dean.

"What the hell's going on with you, Sammy?" Sam didn't respond, getting to be a regular thing for him. "Since when are you the one to go all full out in front of dad like that?"

Sam whipped around and shoved Dean away. He stumbled but didn't fall. "Why do you even care? You got what you wanted!"

Dean took a step forward. "What are you talking about?"

"For weeks you've been trying to get me to do it, and now that I have, now you want to talk? Fuck you."

Sam turned and began stalking away again. Dean was so in shock at how angry Sam was that he hesitated. Unsure if he really wanted to talk about all the shit that Sam had been holding back on. He pursed his lips together and forced himself to move.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Sam." He whispered as he kept pace with his brother.

Sam gave a sickeningly cold laugh and stopped to look at Dean. "Come on, Dean. All the touches, the kisses, the suggestive comments right in front of dad…why are you trying so hard?"

"So hard for what?"

"For me, Dean!" Sam looked away and then seemed to force himself to look back at Dean. "Everytime that I have ever tried to get close, you've pulled away. And that's fine, okay, I get you. But the one time that I start to pull away, you're all over me, suffocating me like…"He stopped and looked away again.

Knowing that everything that Sam was saying was true and not wanting to admit it out loud, Dean asked gently. "Like what?" Sam remained stubbornly silent. "Sam, like what?"

Sam reluctantly pulled his eyes back to his brother's. They weren't cold anymore, but what they were was worse because Dean knew that somehow he had put it there. They were dejected. Broken. "Like I mean something to you. Like I'm not allowed to have a life without you. Like I belong to you."

"What makes you think you don't?" Dean practically growled.

The coldness and sadness was replaced with fire. "Because if I did, then you wouldn't throw yourself at the closest pair of tits when we're on and off a case!" Sam sighed and kicked the dirt under his foot. "Look, just forget I said anything."

Dean stepped forward, grabbed Sam by the back of the neck and jerked him forward. His lips were bruising. Branding. Scolding. Punishing. It was a brutal kiss meant to possess and when he was done, he pushed Sam away from him. Making sure that Sam knew exactly what he had meant.

"You'll always belong to me, Sammy." It wasn't said with venom or anger, just a plain statement of fact. Before Sam could say anything, Dean turned and walked away. Leaving the arrogant prick to his own thoughts. He jumped back over the fence and checked for traffic before jogging back across the highway and quietly opening the motel door.

Their father was still sleeping and Dean moved to the bed farthest from the door. He got into the side closest to the wall and made sure that he was facing the wall. If Sam didn't want to cuddle that was just fine by him…he was never the snuggle type anyways.

Dean was still awake when he heard Sam enter the room exactly twenty-seven minutes later. He kept his back to the door and felt Sam roll into the bed. Dean could feel him. He was lying on his back. He shifted, and for a minute Dean was sure that Sam was going to wrap his arms around him, but then he rolled over and his back was to Dean's. He could feel the cold seeping in around him.

Yeah, Dean was never the snuggle type.

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Saying that the next morning was awkward was like saying pigs could fly. Dean had never been more uncomfortable in his life. The three of them were sitting in a small diner waiting for the breakfast that had been ordered at least forty-five minutes before the silence had begun. 

Their father was sitting across the table reading a few local papers and Dean, sitting tightly beside his brother, was continuously stirring his coffee. Sam was reading one of his books. Dean glanced over. At least this time it was something he could use for hunting…_Origins of Law in Latin._ Okay, so maybe he was reading it for something else.

Their father glanced over the top of his paper for the sixth time that morning. He set the paper on the table. "What's going on?"

Dean looked up from his coffee and Sam looked up from his book. Dean was the first to answer, as always. "What do you mean?"

John sighed and folded his paper to tuck it beside him as the food was, finally, served. He waited until the waitress had refilled his and Dean's cups before speaking again. "You two haven't said a word to each other all morning."

Dean brought his cup to his lips and waited to see what Sam would say. Letting him have complete control over the awkward conversation that he was responsible for.

Sam shrugged. "We're brothers, dad, we're not married."

Dean choked and both Sam and John looked over at him. He set the cup down. "Hot." He said motioning to the coffee.

"So this has nothing to do with last night?"

Dean's heart almost beat out of his chest. "What about last night?"

John shook his head. "You don't think that I heard you?"

Dean was practically heaving for air all of a sudden. "Dad…"

John waved his hand and cut Dean off. "I'm sure that whole damn motel heard Sam practically slam the door, at least you had more sense to close it quietly. What did you do to piss him off now? Kick him in his sleep?"

Dean tried to focus on what was coming out of his father's mouth. He was talking about them leaving the motel room, not about what had happened minutes before. He glanced over at his brother, who apparently didn't have any other smart ass comment to add, and looked back at John.

"Punched him, actually. The damn kid wouldn't stop moving." He felt Sam stiffen next to him at the word _kid_. It was cruel, but Dean knew exactly what names to call Sam to hit a nerve. And this morning he just felt the need to jab those cuts. "He can never shut his damn mind off, so it takes him forever to get to sleep. Decided to take a walk to try and clear his mind."

John nodded and was about to say something when his phone started vibrating. He gave them both one last look before flipping it open. "Hello?" He stood up from the booth and walked towards the door. Dean waited until he was out of the diner before turning to Sam.

"Thanks a lot." He grumbled.

"A walk, Dean? Your manipulative mind couldn't come up with anything better than a walk?" His tone was bored, but his eyes were heated again.

"Married, Sam? Had I known that's all it would have taken to get rid of your bad mood I would have changed my name." He gave him a sarcastic smile. "Cute though."

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"No." Dean snapped. "I've been trying like hell, Sammy, but you're not really helping me here."

Sam looked away…_Sam_ looked away. Sam the one that always wanted to talk about what he was feeling, always wanting Dean to talk, turned away.

"Sammy…"

They heard the bells chime on the top of the door and stopped talking as John walked back towards the table. He sat down. "That was Pastor Jim."

Dean perked up. "New job?"

Their father nodded. "In Alliance…"

"Nebraska?" Sam perked up.

John nodded and they fell into silence again as they began to eat, the conversation before the phone call forgotten. Dean glanced over at Sam filling his face…he was wearing a small smile, something that Dean hadn't seen in awhile. His brows furrowed as he looked down at his own plate.

Alliance, Nebraska. It sounded familiar but Dean couldn't place how. Sam had graduated in Sound Dakota, because it had been when they were staying with Bobby. Suddenly it clicked, they had been working a job in Alliance and when everything had been finished dad had let them take some time off because Dean had gotten hurt. They had stayed in Alliance for over four months, because Dean had milked out the injury so Sam could finish out his school year in one place.

Alliance, that would have been his second last year of high school, when he had started hanging around the library after school and spending time with a certain teacher. Dean had actually been jealous, though Sam claimed it was purely on an educational basis…his words, not Dean's.

Dean leaned farther into the seat and thought back. The teacher had been hot, Dean would give Sam that. Jet black hair with crystal blue eyes that just ate you up when they were focused on you. Great legs. And a chiseled angelic face. That described Mr. Eric Landon down to a T.

Just thinking about the guy made Dean grind his teeth together. That and the fact that after three years the bastard still put a smile on his little brother's face.

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_Okay, so I finally got the next chapter up...any thoughts?_


	3. Happiness is a secret

**DISCLAIMER: **Owns nothing

_Hey guys, sorry for delays. I'm swamped with shit to do. Midterms and lack of inspiration have been my best friends as of late. I'm completely sad and ,as a friend and me have decided, pathetic - at least that's how I feel. I hate not being able to write. Hope your all still into the story. The chapter is short, but i liked the way that the end happened so too bad for you. And I'll try my damnest to get the next one written faster. _

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Sam was practically vibrating with anticipation. It had been a little over a year and a half since he had been to Alliance, and just shy of five months since he had talked with Eric. He'd desperately wanted to call and give the guy a heads up that he was coming into town, but Dean had been suspicious enough for the past few days and he didn't want to take the chance of getting caught.

Not that there was really anything wrong with him contacting an old friend, but Dean had always been insanely jealous of his relationship with Eric for reasons unknown to him. Sure the guy was young for a teacher and he was pretty damn good looking – but the guy's attitude towards Sam's family had never been a turn on.

Sam shook his head and from the back seat of the Impala he watched Dean from the corner of his eye. They had been driving for over seven hours and somewhere in that time Dean had fallen asleep in the passenger seat. His head was on the glass of the window and Sam could just make out his features.

Sam loved to watch Dean sleep, because while he was sleeping Dean looked peaceful – not a word that he would normally use to describe Dean Winchester. He sighed and looked away from his older brother. If he was honest with himself, he could admit that the reason he had never been attracted to Eric was because he wasn't Dean.

No one would ever compare to him – and that was that.

And that was what was troubling Sam. Dean was his everything and it shouldn't be like that. He wasn't supposed to depend on his brother for some of the things that he did. He wasn't supposed to want the things that he did. And he damn well wasn't supposed to be attracted to his brother.

But he was and it was something that he had come to terms with a while ago. He loved Dean and there was no getting around it, but Dean was another story. Sure he loved Sam, but Sam couldn't shake the feeling that it just wasn't the same. That even though he had no problem with their fucked up relationship, Dean could still turn around a screw some chick without feeling the least bit guilty. That he loved Sam as a _brother_ and nothing more.

He felt the car slow and leaned forward to whisper at their father. "What are you doing?"

John didn't even glance at his younger son. "We'll pull over for the night, I'm dead tired and your brother could use something softer to sleep on."

"He's never had a problem sleeping in the Impala before, why don't you just let me drive?"

John sighed. "Sam, this isn't negotiable. We're stopping."

Sam flopped back into the seat and folded his arms. Of course, the one time that he didn't want to stop their father would insist on it. Life hated him.

John pulled the Impala into the small motel parking lot. "Wait here." was all that he said before getting out of the car and going into the small motel office. Sam watched him with an annoyed glare.

"S'goin' on?"

Sam glanced over at Dean. He was stretching his back and looking gorgeous enough for Sam to lick. "Dad's decided we're stopping because you need a bed to sleep on."

"Gee," Dean looked back at Sam with bored eyes. "Don't make it sound like such a hardship, you're the one who always wants to stop." His eyes narrowed. "Any particular reason that you're in such a hurry to get to Alliance?"

Sam knew that Dean wasn't stupid, no matter how often he tried to pretend otherwise. Dean knew exactly who was in Alliance. "No, of course not. I'm not in a hurry."

Dean nodded his head and something flashed through his eyes. "Course not." He turned back around to face the motel and watch their father as he walked out of the office.

Sam waited until he knew that Dean and their father were asleep, it took a totally of twelve minutes for their father and twenty-six minutes for Dean who seemed adamant about not falling asleep before Sam. Of course Sam won because there was no way that he could sleep when he was so close to getting back to Alliance and Dean was already wasted tired.

He grabbed his cell from his bag and made his way to the bathroom quickly and quietly shut the door. He dialed the number that he knew by heart. It rang once. Twice. Three times before Sam hung up.

He dialed it again and it was picked up before the first ring was over.

"Haven't heard from you in a while – how are you, Sam?"

Sam sat down on the toilet with a small smile on his face. "Better than I've been in a while."

There was a chuckle on the other end. "Family still driving you up the wall, huh?"

Sam's brow furrowed. "No, actually things have been really good lately." He wondered how the lie slipped so easily off his tongue.

"Whatever you say handsome."

"Oh, thirty seconds into the conversation and the endearments start – must be a record."

"What can I say? I haven't heard from you in a while so we're a few short, beautiful."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You can save it for someone it'll work on Eric."

A husky laugh flowed into Sam's ear. "What did you really call for, Sam, because I'm sure that it wasn't to exchange smart ass comments. As good as we are at doing just that."

"I…umm…" Sam scrubbed a hand down the front of his face. Did he really want to know? "I just…"

"You just wanted to know if you have any mail, am I right?"

"Yeah." His voice was small, almost like he was a kid again and he had just found out that the ghost that haunted the neighbor's house was real.

There was a pause on the other end. "You have a letter."

Sam stood up. "From Stanford?"

Once again the chuckle filled the line. "Don't cream your pants, Sam, I haven't opened it."

"What the hell-" Sam looked at the door and lowered his voice. "What the hell are you waiting for?"

Another pause. "Where are you?"

"What does that have to do with anything? Just open the damn letter." Sam heard a bed creak and listened for anymore movement…nothing.

"Just tell me where you are and I'll open the damn letter."

Sam rolled his eyes. "In a motel bathroom."

"Cute. Daddy and brother dearest asleep, and you're sneaking around. Sounds like you're fifteen again."

He huffed. "Just open it."

"How far away are you?"

"You're not gonna open it, are you?"

"I guess I should rephrase the question to how close are you?"

"Close enough that I'll strangle you if you don't open the letter."

Sam listened closely as he heard the slight rip of paper. "You might wanna sit down, sexy ass."

"Oh god." Sam fell against the door with a quiet thud and slid down. "Tell me."

"Pack your bags, long legs, your goin' to Stanford!"

The phone dropped from Sam's hands and landed on the cold floor with a loud clap. He stared at the dirty cream colored bathtub. A million thoughts were flying through his head; the constant verbal battles with their father, the stress that has been between them all over the past few months, Dean…but only one stood out.

He smiled. "I got accepted by Stanford."

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_So...? Tell me that you're still into the story! (bangs head against wall) I've ruined it, I've lost all the readers (sigh) lmao REVIEW!!_


	4. Secrets never stay that way for long

**DISCLAIMER: **Own nothing

_A little late, but I managed to get it done. Enjoy it guys_

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"I can't believe this." Sam stared at the crisp white paper with its perfectly folded lines. The black inc wasn't smudged anywhere and it was really his name that was typed in formal font across the top of the page; _Samuel Winchester. _

Eric clapped him on the back. "You better believe it, Sam. I've told you over and over how easily it would be for you to get in."

Sam's eyes moved frantically across the letter as his mind whirled. _Your application was reviewed – incredible academic standings – we are pleased to offer you – let us be the first to congratulate you._ He swallowed and looked up at Eric with a dazed expression on his face. "I'm dreaming."

A grin slowly spread across Eric's soft features. "Cause good things like this can only happen to you in your dreams? Come on, Sam, you've had this coming for a long time. Let's celebrate." He cocked his head in a motion for Sam to follow him as he made his way through the house and into the kitchen. He pulled out two beers from the fridge and walked outside onto the back patio.

Sam followed slowly, rereading the letter over once more just to make sure that he hadn't misread something. He leaned on the railing with the paper still in his hands and the opened bottle of beer sitting beside his elbow.

Eric lifted the bottle to his lips and watched Sam's profile. He swallowed. "So?"

Sam finally looked up from the sickeningly white paper and his grin could have given the sun a run for its money. "It's great – I mean this is great."

Eric ignored the fact that it sounded like Sam was trying to convince himself of that. "That's not what I was talking about. How's your father?"

Sam averted his gaze. "He's good. Same old same old, I guess."

Eric nodded – paused – took another swing of his beer and swallowed. "And your brother?"

"He, um -" He faltered and began to fiddle with the edges of the paper. He looked Eric in the eyes. "Dean's good…"

"Same old same old?" His eyes stared back at Sam's knowingly.

Sam let out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair. "Things have been rough lately…"

"Lately?"

Annoyance from Eric's obvious dislike towards his family laced Sam's voice. "Are you going to let me finish a sentence or just keep assuming that you've always understood my family?"

Eric finished off his beer and set the bottle on the wood railing with a _thud_. "So your father is still making you feel obligated to him and Dean – your ever so loving big brother – is still trying to stop you from achieving the goals that he never could."

Sam ground his teeth together. "It's complicated. And as for Dean, he's never tried to hold me back."

"Of course not, he's not the one that was always coming to get you early from school trying to get you to skip out on classes. He's not the one who always missed every single thing you did that involved school. He's not the one…"

"Just stop it, okay?" Sam bit his lip and turned away. He folded the letter up into a small square and shoved it in his back pocket. "You can't understand, we're just…"

"Sam."

The deep growl caused Sam to whip around. Dean was standing twenty yards away near the back gate with his arms crossed and a very pissed look on his face. Sam sent a hesitant look towards Eric, praying that he wouldn't pick up on the jealous signals that Dean was radiating.

"Dean, it's good to see you again." Eric pasted a fake smile on his face and Sam wanted to cringe at how infuriating he was when it came to Sam's family.

Dean took three steps forward. "Wish I could say the same, Landon, but -" He motioned to the beer bottles on the railing. "The fact that you are illegally serving a minor – who happens to be my little brother – just kills the mood."

"Always one for the witty comments." His smile was malicious. "Since when do you play the caring older brother card anyways?"

Sam watched Dean's lips thin. "That's enough, Eric." He made a pained expression and walked towards Eric. He stopped beside him. "Thank you, I'll call you later." Before he had a chance to respond Sam quickly walked down the stairs and across the grass to grab Dean's arm and yank him out of the yard.

As soon as they were in the alley Dean shoved Sam away from him. He caught himself and took a few breaths, reminding himself how Dean felt about Eric. Dean could throw the whole jealous thing way out of proportion. Sam counted it to be three minutes and twenty-nine seconds of walking in silence before Dean caved.

"What were you even doing there?"

Sam stopped and didn't answer until Dean also stopped and looked back at him. "Why are you so threatened by him?"

Dean sneered. "I'm not threatened by him. I'm just curious as to why you even like the prick. He's a complete asshole and normally your not one to put up with people like that."

Sam opened his arms. "Maybe it's because he's not like that around me."

That earned a snort. "Have you ever wondered why he's so different with you?"

Sam's shoulders sagged. "No, but I bet you have a theory."

"He wants in your pants, Sam!" Dean flung an arm out uselessly and began to pace the narrow alley. "He practically leers at you, and he sends out death threats with his eyes when anyone else glances at you."

"It's not like that, Dean."

He strode over to Sam. "Then tell me what it's like."

Sam shrugged. "He's just-"

"What?" He pushed Sam's shoulder with the heel on his palm. "Why are you so enthralled with this guy?"

"I can just talk with him."

Sam knew the words were bad from the look on Dean's face. It was a fleeting expression and was replaced with a mask, but not before Sam understood what it meant. The words had hurt him. His eyes narrowed before he turned on his heels and walked away.

"Dean." Sam began to walk again, quickening his pace to catch up with his brother. "It came out wrong, Dean." Sam grabbed his arm to stop him. "Dean, please."

Dean spun. "For months, Sam, I've been trying to get you to talk to me. _Me_! We're in Alliance for a little over twenty-four hours and you're already at his place spilling everything that you – for some reason – can't tell me." He ripped his arm out of Sam's grasp. "Not that it matters, dad's done the job here…we're leaving first thing in the morning."

With that last parting shot – which Sam guessed was supposed to hit him hard – Dean turned and started walking again. Sam stood in the alley, watching Dean walk away and all too aware of the letter that was practically burning a hole in his ass.

* * *

Sam enjoyed the sound of the front door slamming as he walked out of the house. It had been a month since they had left Alliance, and that much closer to Stanford starting. But things weren't looking up, in fact they seemed to be worse than ever.

A new day and a new hunt always seemed to bring around a new fight. He stomped across the yard and was not too thrilled to hear to door bang back open behind him. Not really wanting to talk to his brother at the moment, Sam quickened his pace.

Usually Dean would step in, take some charge as to how violent the fight was going to get – not this time. No, apparently Dean wasn't in the mood to play referee because things had spiraled out of control fast. In the end, Sam had taken a punch at their dad. The second it happened he regretted it, even now he couldn't have felt more ashamed.

It wasn't often that Sam's temper got the better of him, but it seemed more and more that he was on a shorter fuse. He'd even started fights with Dean over the most childish things. Don't drink from the milk carton, pick up his damn socks, turn down the music - it was never ending.

"Damn it, Sam." Dean grabbed his wrist and whirled him around.

Sam took advantage of the movement and used it to help him shove Dean away from him. "Where the hell were you ten minutes ago, Dean?"

"Don't try and pin this on me because you've been in a pissy mood for the past month. Why is it my job to keep you and dad from tearing each other's throats out?" He gave Sam a once over. "You seem to be excelling lately at doing things by yourself."

Sam narrowed his eyes. "What are you talking about? Dean, we literally spend twenty-four hours a day together." He glanced quickly around and whispered. "I love you."

Dean laughed softly. "You got a funny way of showing love, little brother. See I don't think love means that you abandon someone."

Sam's anger dissipated from the hurt look on his brother's face. "What?"

Dean sniffed and looked away. "I know about Stanford."

And just like that, all the anger came rushing back. "You're rifling through my stuff now? Cause that's what people do when they love someone, Dean." Sarcasm leaked off his tongue. "You, the one that can only say you love me after you're done nailing me…"

Dean's fist connected with Sam's jaw in a sickeningly dull _smack_. Sam stared at the ground until he was certain that he wasn't going to do something stupid – he'd already done more than enough damage for one day. He looked into Dean's eyes, but didn't see the regret that he had felt when he had hit their father. And, yeah, it kinda hurt.

Sam smiled and used a knuckle to wipe the blood from his lip. "Guess that's just the patent Winchester way to show affection – though I gotta say, Dean, when I want you to nail me that's not usually what I'm thinking."

"I wasn't looking through your stuff, you spoiled little brat. If you wanna keep secrets in this family you damn well don't go into the bathroom at four in the morning with your phone."

Sam looked away and for the second time in twenty minutes felt like he was five years old again, ashamed for acting so recklessly. "I can't handle the way things are going right now."

"What are you talking about, Sam?"

"Everything – with dad, with you – I just can't…"

Dean tossed a hand through the air. "Don't say that this is about dad or me! This is about you, Sam, just like it's always been."

Sam's jaw ticked and his eyes narrowed. "Like it's always been? And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"Just like it sounds. You've always played the selfish card." Dean's face hardened. "You never wanted to learn what dad was teaching us, but God forbid anyone interrupt you while you learn about the chaos theory!"

Sam smirked. "So it's selfish of me to want a real education?"

"It's selfish of you to leave while dad needs you – while I need you" Dean's façade broke a little.

"You've never needed me."

"You told me that you'd always be here, Sam, whenever I needed you." Dean's composure returned. "I need you now."

Sam's laugh was hollow and cold. "Now who's being selfish, Dean? You need me when I wanna to leave."

Dean licked his lips. "You lied to me."

Sam made a skeptical face. "And you've never lied to me?" Sam took a threatening step forward. "You told me that all you wanted was for me to be happy."

Dean took an equally threatening step. "And leaving this family, that's what makes you happy?"

Sam's face contorted in pain. "You know what would make me happy? To stop with all the fighting. To be normal, to not be…"

Dean smirked sadistically. "What we are? And this being normal, does it include not loving your brother? Not whispering how much you need me when you think I'm asleep?" Sam's back straightened and his eyes widened. "Don't look so surprised, it's not the first time that I've faked sleep to find out what goes on in that mind of yours." He narrowed his eyes at Sam. "And don't give me that look cause I know you've done it before too."

Sam backed down, taking a heavy step away. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep trying to make myself believe that things will get better. Every morning when I wake up I feel a growing resentment to him, and I don't want to have that feeling. I don't wanna be that person who's pissed at the world for the way that my life turned out. I think it's best if I just leave for awhile."

"And it's so easy for you to just drop us, to just drop me?"

Sam clenched his jaw and he looked away. "I never said it was easy."

He didn't look up again until he felt – rather than saw - Dean move.

Dean pulled out one of his knives from his back pocket and held it out to Sam. "Try this next time okay?" Sam looked at him quizzically. "You wanna stab me in the back, do it like a real man – cause it'll hurt a hell of a lot less."

He let the knife fall onto the cement between them and turned around to walk back to the house.

* * *

_(Smiles) Any comments?_


	5. If you talk, sometimes he'll listen

**DISCLAIMER:** blah blahblah, its not mine and ya'll know that

_Okay, holy crap, I'm so so so sorry that it's taken me this long to get the next chapter up! School sucks and I even ditched out on studying for a final to get this posted. And that's why I'm also sorry that it's kinda short. Please don't hate me for it, and let me know how its going cause I'm beginning to doubt it know, LadyWilde you're my hero :D_

* * *

Sam leaned on the side of the Impala and let the cool night air flutter across his face. He closed his eyes and tucked his hands into his pockets. Two weeks, that's how long he had left before the regular school semester started back up. Two weeks and he still hadn't mentioned anything to their father about leaving. Two weeks and Dean had yet to bring up the topic again.

In fact they hadn't really spoken to each other. There were the automatic responses during hunts and the monotone answers during research, but that was it. There was no joking, no suggestive comments and no laughing.

Sometimes there were the briefest of touches at night after their dad had fallen asleep, but they only left him hurting and more frustrated then if there had been no touching at all.

He opened his eyes and glanced towards the cheap bar that their dad and Dean had chosen to hustle. There was no telling how long they would be in it, so he pushed himself of the car and started walking back to the motel. It wasn't that far anyways, about a mile or so.

He kept his hands tucked in his pockets as he walked and kicked the dirt a few times, wishing Dean was around so he could kick him instead. Why did the jerk have to make things more difficult then they already were? It was bad enough that Sam knew their father was going to have a hard time taking in the whole Stanford issue, but he had thought for sure Dean would understand – Dean always understood. He was going to tell their dad weeks ago that he was thinking about going away to school, but then the whole blowup between Dean and him had happened and…well, if Dean had taken it that bad, Sam was sure to be killed, salted and burned when he told their dad.

He stopped walking and turned around to look at the bright neon sign of the motel that he had completely bypassed. He dropped his shoulders and started backtracking, but instead of going into their room he walked across the street to a baseball diamond. He leapt onto one of the bleachers and moved to lay on the top row, with his knees bent. The wood was cool on his heated back. He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes.

The crisp breeze chilled his skin but he didn't feel it – no, there wasn't a lot that he was feeling lately…except regret. He regretted applying to Stanford, it had only created more problems when it was supposed to take them away.

He heard the stiff grass crunching somewhere off to his right, but didn't open his eyes. He felt the bleachers heave under the weight of another body and the thudding of shoes making their way towards him. The noise stopped and his hair swayed as a puff of air passed by him, body warmth leaked onto his cooled scalp.

For the first time Sam just didn't know what to say…and, yeah it was awkward. So he kept his eyes closed and focused on the cool breeze instead of the musky leather smell that was invading his space.

"Do you know when you were little," His voice was soft and just above his head, Sam kept his eyes closed. "That I was the only one that could stop you from crying? Dad would try, God he tried, but you just wouldn't stop. Whenever we were at Bobby's he would try, it didn't do any good. But the second that I had you that was it, you were quiet."

Sam wasn't sure where the conversation was supposed to being going, but it annoyed him that Dean hadn't even tried to talk since the episode in Alliance. "Yeah, well, I don't cry that often anymore, Dean." He cringed, he hadn't tried very hard either.

There was a heavy pause and Sam thought for sure that Dean was going to leave. "That's not my point." Sam kept his mouth closed, not wanting to hear his point anymore. But that didn't stop Dean from talking and Sam should have known it wouldn't. "Sam, I've always been here for you, and you damn well know that. The whole Stanford thing…I just wanted you to talk to me."

Sam's eyes snapped open. Dean was sitting right by his head, with one arm slung over the railing. "I tried talking to you, remember how that went?"

Dean shook his head. "No, Sammy, I pushed you into talking, I had you backed into a corner and you had to tell me. There's a difference."

"I don't see a difference."

He watched Dean's nostrils flare. "The difference is that you wouldn't have told me! You didn't want me to know. Do you know how bad it hurt having to hear you on the phone with _him_ of all people, Sam?" He raised his eyes to stare up at the sky and for the first time, Sam understood why Dean reacted the way he had.

"I'm sorry." Dean tipped his head back down to stare into Sam's eyes. As always the intensity there heated him, practically warming his cooled skin. "I was gonna tell you, Dean. This wasn't something that I was trying to keep from you."

He ran a hand down his face. "It sure felt like it. This was big, Sam…" He trailed off.

Sam closed his eyes again. That's really all their family knew; pain was just as part of their lives as breathing. "I was just trying to find the right way to tell you, Dean. You told me that I was abandoning you and that was exactly what I didn't want you to feel."

Dean didn't answer and Sam squeezed his eyes tighter, unable to continue. They feel into silence again with nothing but the sound of the wind and passing cars in the distance. And that was the biggest reason why Sam regretted applying to Stanford – he would have done anything not to cause Dean the exact pain that he was in.

With his eyes closed, he felt Dean's hand brush gently along the tips of hair on his forehead and then slowly push his fingertips farther into his mess of hair. He bit his lip to keep from saying anything.

"Why did you do it?" Sam opened his eyes to find Dean staring out into the distance, his hand still playing with Sam's hair. Sam wouldn't have even known he'd spoken if they hadn't been the only two within shouting distance.

"Do you want me to lie this time? Cause you didn't like my answer before."

"No, Sam, I'm tired of all the lies."

Although he really didn't want to talk about it anymore – in fact he was ready to tear up the letter and pretend like it had never happened – Sam sighed reluctantly. "It's just everything, Dean. I feel like this life is draining every piece of humanity out of me, and it's slowly driving me insane. The only time that I feel calm anymore is when I'm with you, and with the way things have been lately that hasn't even been doing me any good."

"Me and dad…things are getting worse and worse everyday, and I hate that. I hate that I feel this resentment towards him when I know it's not his fault. And you're right."

"Right about what?"

Sam laughed bitterly at himself. "I am selfish. I don't wanna do this anymore. I don't wanna be here, but you're missing one thing."

Dean's voice cracked. "What's that?"

"When I say I don't want this life anymore, it has nothing to do with you. With us. I love you, Dean, I do. And if I leave, I'm still gonna love you."

Dean was quiet for a few minutes and Sam didn't say anything, letting his older brother think about everything he had admitted to.

"I'll still love you too." And Sam could hear all the unspoken words. _I wish things could have been different, I'm sorry I couldn't understand, I don't know what to do._ The hand in Sam's hair kept moving.

Sam moved his hands from behind his head and pushed himself backwards so he could set his head on Dean's thigh. He closed his eyes again, drinking in the closeness that he felt again. Because this – being able to talk to each other again – felt like they were closer then when they slept next to each other every night.

"I'm just tired, Dean."

Dean's hand kept moving and the other one snaked down from the railing to curve possessively on Sam's thigh. "I know."

* * *

_Haha, bet you weren't expecting the huggle talk from me :) take that!_


	6. Sometimes you still aren't heard

Sam and Dean pushed into the motel room in a fit of laughter, practically falling over each other to get into the room. It was late, but their dad had been gone for three days and they had gotten completely bored roaming around the room.

It had been a little under two weeks since their encounter in the bleachers – there was three days left for him to confirm his entry into Stanford, and Sam hadn't said anything to their dad.

It took them both a minute to realize that the lights were on.

"Where have you boys been?"

Sam's laughter died in his throat as he looked up into the very pissed off eyes of John Winchester. Dean straightened, but Sam remained hunched over with his hands on his knees.

"We were just out for supper, dad." Dean tried.

"It's eleven thirty, Dean. You know the rules. If you leave, you are back in this room by dark."

"Yes, sir."

Sam winced. It had been his idea to stay out, thinking that John wouldn't be home for at least another night. He straightened. "It's not Dean's fault, dad."

John's eyes averted from Dean's and drilled into his younger son's. "You want this discussion on you right now, Sam?"

Sam glanced over at Dean and then back at their father. "It's not like Dean and I don't know what we're doing, dad. You should be able to trust us by now."

"Trust you?" Sam was about to answer when John reached behind him and pulled out an envelope from his back pocket. He tossed it carelessly towards Sam. "Trust you?" He repeated.

Sam reached down to pick up the paper that had fallen near his feet, dreading looking at it because he already knew what it was. "How did you get this?" He straightened and flipped the paper over to see the bold lettered **Stanford** mocking him.

"It's not important how I got it, Sam." He folded his arms. "You're not going."

Sam's heated eyes snapped over to their father. "You can't order me not to go."

John took a threatening step forward. "You're god damn right I can! You're my son and I'm telling you that you're not going."

Sam was about to step forward when Dean grabbed his arm and yanked him back. Both Sam and John's eyes turned towards Dean, who hadn't stepped between them in a long time. He stepped in front of Sam now.

"I'm sorry, dad, but this isn't something that you can stop."

"So you did know, I figured as much. Why didn't you tell me, Dean?"

Sam winced at the tone. It wasn't anger, oh no, something much worse, it was _disappointment._ The cringing indication that Dean had let their father down.

Dean didn't even hesitate. "It wasn't mine to tell."

John's eyes narrowed and Sam knew that he had to stop things. He couldn't let this be about John and Dean, not this time. He stepped beside Dean, their shoulders ghosting each other. "How do you plan on stopping me, dad? You gonna chain me to the walls?"

John's jaw ticked. "If I have to."

"You son of a bitch."

"Sam." Dean's voice was barely audible over the pounding of blood through Sam's mind.

"You can't keep me here forever! I'm not just some kid anymore that needs to be taken care of."

"Watch your mouth, Sam."

"Oh but wait," Sam mocked. "It was never you taking care of me in the first place, was it dad? So why should you have a say in anything that I do?"

"Sam." Dean barked out his name so strongly that Sam actually flinched, because yeah it was the truth. Dean had been more of a father to Sam then John had ever been.

His nostrils flared and he griped the letter in his hand. He waited for their dad to say something – anything really to deflect what his youngest son had just said.

Nothing came. Really there was nothing he could say because he knew just how true it was. Sam bit his bottom lip and turned on his heels, ripping the door open he took off down the street.

Shaking with the fury that had been barely contained, Sam kicked at a glass bottle that had been discarded on the ground. It flew into a brick wall and shattered – ironic considering that's how he felt at that moment.

He gritted his teeth and tightened his hands into fists, swinging out at the same wall. It connected with a sickeningly dull _smack_ and Sam hissed out through his teeth. His breath heaving out in frustrated and painful huffs. Looking down he took in the deep scraps along his knuckles where he could see the blood already pooling around the skin and dropped his hands back to his sides.

He let his shoulders drop and turned around to lean against the wall. He could feel the pain of the growing headache behind his eyes, the burning and dull throb of his knuckles and frantic beating of his heart as he clamed down.

He let his body slide down the wall until he hit the ground, pulling his knees up to his chest in a defensive move that he hadn't made in years.

He was still shaking when Dean found in the same position. He tucked his hands in his pockets and kept his back to Sam, facing the street. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just watching the cars on the highway pass.

"Is this how it's always gonna be, Sammy?" He was still watching traffic. "Things get a little rough, a little tense and you bolt?"

Sam sighed and scrubbed his hands over his eyes. "Look, Dean, this is just one more reason that I need to leave. You think I don't know what happens when I take off?" He smacked the back of his head against the brick wall. "That you take all the heat that was directed at me? I do know, and I want it to stop, Dean, I do."

Dean turned. "Do you honestly think that by leaving you'll be stopping all of it?"

"I'll be stopping the part that's my fault. "Sam grinned. "And come on, let's face it, all of it's my fault."

"It's not all your fault, Sam. It's just that you don't try very hard."

Sam looked up at Dean with hooded eyes. "Why do I always have to be the one to try, Dean?"

Dean's gaze didn't waver. "Because I asked you to – and that should be enough."

Sam dropped his eyes, knowing that Dean didn't ask him for much. He nodded and Dean offered a hand. Sam took it and Dean hauled him back onto his feet. He put a hand on Sam's neck and rubbed his jaw with his thumb. "We're gonna make this work, Sammy."

He gripped the back of Sam's neck and pulled them flush. "Trust me." He brought their lips together in a chaste kiss before dropping his forehead onto Sam's. "Come on." He wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders and started them back towards the motel room.

When they got back in the room John was throwing the rest of their clothes into their bags. Dean stepped in first.

"What's going on?"

Without pausing John answered. "Just got a call, there's a spirit over in Hartford. We're leaving tonight."

"Hartford?" Sam glanced at Dean, all his calm suddenly leaving his body. "As in Connecticut?"

"I'm pretty sure you learnt your geography before you started school, Sam." John shrugged it off – as if he didn't know.

Sam tensed. "You've gotta be kidding me. You get a job out of the blue, right after you learn that I'm planning on going to school in Palo Alto – less than five hours from where we are now – all the way across the country?"

John finally stopped and looked over at them. "That's right. Now grab your bags, we're leaving."

Sam closed his eyes. "You're right, I'm leaving." He grabbed his bag and turned back towards the door.

"Sam, wait a second." Dean grabbed Sam's arm.

"No, Dean. I came back to talk, but his mind is already made up. Just like always." He looked down at his arm where Dean still restrained him. "You have to let me go, Dean."

Dean licked his lips. "I don't want to."

Sam's lips tilted a fraction. "We talked about this already. You know it has to be like this."

"Not like this."

Sam's shoulders dropped. "Please, Dean."

Dean's fingers tightened for a second before he let Sam's arm slip through his fingers. Sam took a step back.

John eyes narrowed. "If you step out that door, Samuel Winchester, you don't come back."

"Dad!" Dean's eyes whipped frantically towards Sam.

"I mean it."

"Stop!" Dean threw his arms out. "Everybody just stop."

Sam's nostrils flared. "I have stopped it, Dean." He grabbed one of Dean's arms and yanked him into a hug. "I love you." He whispered into Dean's neck, inhaling his brother's musky scent and imprinting it into his memory. He pressed his lips to Dean's neck.

"Goodbye." He whispered before stepping out the door, never once looking back.


End file.
